Why is it so hard to admit that I am weak? For some reason I like to try to carry a heavy load without help. Or maybe I don't "like" it but I am too proud to ask for help. And I hate accepting help. I always feel like I am bothering people and I don't like that. But really, if I let myself think about it, I am actually being selfish. People want to help. It makes them feel good too. And if I don't let people help me it is taking away from their pleasure.
I came close to tears twice in the last couple of days. One time was when I was calling to order dinner and the place didn't answer. I just couldn't think of what else to eat and I felt the knot in my throat grow that tries to block the tears from coming to my eyes. The other time was when Steve's platelet count was low and there were no beds and he didn't want to stay in the ER. I just couldn't make a decision. I knew it was best for him to be at the hospital if his platelets were going down, but he certainly wasn't going to get any rest. The first time was just silly. I realized I was stressed out. The second time was more serious and I am thankful for friend who I can call. That is me finally letting them help carry the load.
For whatever reason, I put on a face of "I'm not worried." But one thing I realized while Steve has been sick and I have been at a higher level of stress is that I make more jokes when I am stressed. I guess it is a way of coping for me. That and drinking. Drinking Dr. Pepper.
Now let me tell the whole world that I am just as weak as the other weaklings out there. It is all a facade. Underneath the outer shell I am as soft as an uncooked egg. So don't let me trick you. When you ask how I am and I make a joke, it means I'm not doing too well. Since you know that now, you can understand what I really mean and go get me a Dr. Pepper.
I came close to tears twice in the last couple of days. One time was when I was calling to order dinner and the place didn't answer. I just couldn't think of what else to eat and I felt the knot in my throat grow that tries to block the tears from coming to my eyes. The other time was when Steve's platelet count was low and there were no beds and he didn't want to stay in the ER. I just couldn't make a decision. I knew it was best for him to be at the hospital if his platelets were going down, but he certainly wasn't going to get any rest. The first time was just silly. I realized I was stressed out. The second time was more serious and I am thankful for friend who I can call. That is me finally letting them help carry the load.
For whatever reason, I put on a face of "I'm not worried." But one thing I realized while Steve has been sick and I have been at a higher level of stress is that I make more jokes when I am stressed. I guess it is a way of coping for me. That and drinking. Drinking Dr. Pepper.
Now let me tell the whole world that I am just as weak as the other weaklings out there. It is all a facade. Underneath the outer shell I am as soft as an uncooked egg. So don't let me trick you. When you ask how I am and I make a joke, it means I'm not doing too well. Since you know that now, you can understand what I really mean and go get me a Dr. Pepper.
2 comments:
Sorry you were so stressed but it was understandable I am proud of you. It is hard having your husband sick for along time and have company at the same time. ( Although they made good dinners)
I wish I was able to hand you a Dr. Pepper from half way across the world.
Post a Comment